


Learning To Clean Up Your Own Messes

by stanchezsloppyseconds



Series: Interdimensional Janitors [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Blood and Gore, Citadel of Ricks, Death, Existential Crisis, Gen, Gore, Latino Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Minor Character Death, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanchezsloppyseconds/pseuds/stanchezsloppyseconds
Summary: The pamphlet had read “The Citadel: A safe haven for Ricks among other Ricks, located where no Galactic Federal Agent could find you. Full of lucrative job opportunity and like minded individuals… Literally they have the same brain as you.” Ricardo Sanchez of dimension C-382 was not certain what he’d expected when he'd signed up for The Council of Ricks, but it certainly wasn’t being assigned the task of cleaning up his own corpses along side another Rick who’s so foreign to him he swears there’s been a mistake in the DNA test. There’s no way this stick in the mud and him are really the same person. (An introduction fic to my Interdimensional Janitors, and Ricardo's first day on the job)





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Clean Up Crew : Rick C-382 & Rick C-594 work for the Council of Ricks as the part of the Interdenominational Janitorial Staff. They clean up the messes other Ricks leave behind, and make sure that no portal tech falls into the wrong hands. As such, anything involving them comes with a blanket warning for blood, gore, death and suicide mention because there’s a lot of corpse disposal involved in their job.

With not a single shmeckle or penny left to his name, it had been a hard fall from the old days of touring with the band and fighting the Galactic Federation. While backpacking his broke way across the multiverse, Ricardo Sanchez C-382 had come across a pair of other Ricks who'd been handing out pamphlets. "The Citadel" the paper read in a bold but appealing text. It claimed to be the answer to all his problems. A safe haven for Ricks among other Ricks, located where no Galactic Federal agent could ever find you. Full of lucrative job opportunity and like minded individuals. Literally. They all have the same brain as you.

 

He was skeptical, but it couldn't hurt to check it out right?

 

Upon arriving he had needed to register his dimension code, portal gun, and take both a DNA and IQ test to place him in the system. He hadn't been overly fond of how formal and scrutinizing that process had all been, but now that he was through the main gates he had full access to the entire city. A Rick who'd been given the job of acting as a tour guide tried to lead him on a certain path towards some boring looking warehouse facility. Instead, Ricardo had slipped away the moment the guide's back was turned and decided to explore things the old fashioned way of getting yourself utterly lost in a crowd.

 

He stopped at a bar for a drink, happy to pay with the prepaid credit card they'd handed him upon access. Each new Rick to join for a limited time would receive 14 shmeckles. He had half a mind to just take that money and run, and he was sure plenty of Ricks already had, but a somewhat horrible scientific curiosity to see what would happen in a city made entirely of himself kept him from leaving. The bartender, another Rick, knew exactly what he wanted and how he liked it mixed without even asking. Everything on the food menu was his favourite things to eat while drunk from all across the multiverse. If nothing else they'd at least gotten this part right.

 

Pub crawling in this place was made easy. There was at least one pub to every ten stores in this district of the city. It didn't take long for him to get proper wrecked either given every bar could make the perfect fuck you right up cocktail of his dreams. So by the time he had found himself rambling at another Rick over how messed up things had gotten at blood ridge, he was well past black out drunk.

 

Somehow by morning he'd woken up in a small one bedroom bachelor suite, that appeared to belong to him given it had his dimension code stamped on the front door, and his personal signature on a lease taped to the side of the fridge, although he had no clue how he'd gotten there. There was a phone number scrawled on the back of his hand in messy ink. The writing looked like his own but he couldn't remember if he'd written it or if some other Rick had. He hoped it wasn't a "call for a good time" sorta deal. He swung a lot of ways, but not in his own alternate dimensional selves’ direction. Eventually his curiosity did get the better of him though, and he dialled the number.

 

"This is the Rick Career Placement Centre, how may I help you today?" A cheerful sounding Rick on the other end answered.

 

"Err..." Ricardo wasn't certain what to say. He supposed he needed a job for when the credit eventually ran out, but that felt a bit too committing to the idea he wasn't leaving--

 

"Let me guess, looking for something short term?" The Rickceptionist asked still sounding oddly chipper.

 

"Yeah.  N-Not sure I'm staying long." He rubbed at the ache in his neck.

 

"Riiiight." The other Rick sounded skeptical. "Just a fe-few questions then."

 

"What is th-this? A job interview? I'm you! You nn-know what I'm capable of already." Ricardo said trying to hide his nervousness over a job system that had failed him on Earth by covering it up with irritation. The Rick on the other line sighed. He likely wasn't buying the act.

 

"No, you've already got the job. It's just to ff-figure out wh-which job is best for you."

 

"Oh.. alright. Shoot me." Ricardo said trying to laugh off the tension.

 

"Past career experience?"

 

"That's ee-easy! I'm a rock star." Ricardo said proudly.

 

"Most Ricks have had a band-"

 

"A band! I've had at least te-twenty!" Ricardo declared, certain this proved he was more than some part time hobby musician... even if most his bands had never played more than a few small gig shows.

 

"If y-you're such a famous musician, why do you need a job?" The other Rick asked dryly.

 

"We're on break. Be-between albums." Ricardo lied. He wasn't entirely sure Birdperson and Squanchy would want to reform the band after the last stunt he pulled, but he knew if he gave it time the anger would blow over, they'd forgive him like always, and they'd be friends again. Then maybe they'd make another album and tour the multiverse.

 

"C-382? Y-You still there? I asked what other job experiences you've had, if any."

 

"Er... I mean I did the occasional odd job. But aa na-nada nine to five since I was a teen working janitorial duty at d-d-dad's oficina." There was a heavy pause and Ricardo fidgeted with the phone nervously, before adding with an awkward laugh "been sticking it to the old padre ever ss-since."

 

"Were you involved in the rebellion at bloodridge?" The question was a sudden change of topic, but Ricardo welcomed it.

 

"Y-yeah. With my band mates, Squanchy and Birdperson. We lost, but you knew that already or else we wouldn't all be here, rriiight? Hiding from the Galactic Feds wanting to pick apart our brains a-and-and all." Ricardo was only half joking. He was fairly certain that had the Feds been able to catch him, they'd have put him through simulator after simulator till they got their answers about inter-dimensional travel or had turned his brain to mush. That or just dissected him with Glorpnixian neurology methods.

 

"How are you around blood?" The receptionist asked, "a-are you comfortable around dead bodies?"

 

“Err what ss-sorta question is that ff-for-for a job interview?" Ricardo paused, "But uh, yeah, whatever. You do know what Bloodridge was like right? It-it wasn't called Bloodridge before the war, if ya catch my drift?"

 

"Just one last question then, w-what's your marital status?"

 

"Single, never married. Gotta daughter though. Beth. She-she's two years old."

 

"Must be the-the light of your life." The other Rick said and it was hard to tell if he was being sincere. There was a long pause during which all Ricardo could hear was the sound of the other Rick typing. "Your work uniform and a-assigned position details should be arriving shortly."

Opening his mouth to ask what the job in question was, Ricardo was cut off by a knock at the door.

 

"That should be them. If you have any further inquiries or complaints to file with our Career Placement Centre you can write a letter and shove it up your ass." The phone line went dead cutting the Rick off mid laughter.

 

The delivery Rick at the door had him sign for a small brown box parcel. There was a job manual book tucked in top of the box. The large print "Council of Ricks IDJ Department" almost sounded promising at first, until he realized it stood for Inter-Dimensional Janitor not Intelligent Disc Jockey. Inside the package was also a bleach white lab coat with a golden council badge pinned to the lapel, a pair of elbow length thick black rubber gloves, a breathing mask, and what Ricardo assumed was a joke-- a tooth brush.

 

"What part of sticking it to th-the old man did that idiot not get?" He grumbled as he glanced at the manual before tossing it over his shoulder, bored. This simply wouldn't do... but he did desperately need some cash and his usual methods of getting money were currently out the window. Glaring at the uniform, Ricardo supposed with a bit of modification he could make the bleached white collar look work in his favour.

He showed up to the Biowaste Disposal Building precisely fashionably late, having paid zero attention to the page in the job handbook about uniform regulations and safety conduct. The Sleeves were torn from his lab coat, his council badge removed, piercings still in and the rest of the uniform had been replaced with his own torn up jeans, steel toed boots, and a band tee*.

 

_*The Chicken Nuggets, a short lived but personal favourite of his long list of disbanded musical acts._

 

He'd left the tight, elbow length black rubber gloves at home. They looked like they were made for heavy duty dish washing and were totally cramping his style.

 

When he'd arrived at the facility, there had been not a Rick in sight to greet him, which seemed a tad odd seeming that the rest of the Citadel was crawling with Ricks employed to every odd guide or secretarial job you would never need. Yet here, the reception desk sat empty. He whistled innocuously as he strolled around the front office space. Not one for waiting rooms, Ricardo decided the lack of authority to stop him was an invitation to explore the facility on his own terms.

 

The interior of the Biowaste Disposal Facility was full of tall and narrow corridors with pristine stainless steel walls. The floor was thick plates of metal that his boots clinked against, echoing his footsteps through the seemingly empty building. Every so often he'd spot a security camera and pause to make a silly face at it. Eventually the maze of hallways opened into a small room. It resembled a gym locker room, with one wall lined in showers and the other side had just two lockers. One was stamped with his own dimension code, while the other read in polished chrome lettering "C-594". Running a hand curiously over the door with his own code on it, Ricardo didn't even notice the other person in the room until he cleared his throat.

 

"You're late." The other Rick said bitterly as Ricardo jumped around to face him.

 

Dressed immaculately in the same uniform Ricardo hand been sent, stood a very typical looking Rick, a heavy scowl set on his face. It was like looking in a mirror at a much less fun version of himself.

 

"Look, buddy, if-if you could point me towards whoever is-- who's in charge round here, I uh I think there's been a mistake in my assignment to this job."

 

"Hey JERTY, he wants to talk to you now." C-594 called out.

 

"Oh so now he wants to talk? No one ever says anything to the Ai until they need something from you. Is it so much to ask for a simple hello at reception?" A voice droned miserably over the loud speaker.

 

"Er- I didn't know there was an Ai at re-reception." Ricardo shrugged glancing around for a security camera but not spotting any visible. Could it see them in here? It was a change room, but he doubted a facility in a civilization run by himself was going to be prudish about nudity like the Zigerions.

 

"Of course not. You make your way up the ladder from butter-passing to head of an important biowaste facility and this is the sort of respect one gets?" A small screen dropped down from the ceiling playing a loop of recordings of Ricardo making silly faces at the cameras as he explored the halls.

 

"Yes well- you see I er-- I think there was an error in the system when they assigned me--" Ricardo started only to be cut off by the robot sighing heavily.

 

"It says on your interview form that you confirmed being a Galactic rebellion vet and that your only previous job experience was quote being in a band end quote, and a part time janitorial job. Sounds like the system sorted you just fine to me."

 

"Wait-- Tha-that's it?" The other Rick asked with a look of mixed disgust and anger.

 

"Now C-594," the Ai said monotonously, "before you start writing complai-"

 

"I spent months presenting my case and filing for a second Rick to be assigned to this damned j-job and they sent me a rock band wanna be id-idiot?"

 

"Hey! I IQ te-test just as high as the rest of us!" Ricardo protested pushing his way into the other Rick's personal space.

 

"In a civilization made entirely of geniuses," C-594 sneered, as he stepped away "your smarts aren't de-dependent on how clever your brain is, it's how y-you use it. And you, C-382, rr-reek of wasted potential."

 

"Oh yeah wel- well what's your all mm-mighty credentials then, buddy?" Ricardo scoffed.

"I don't have to justify myself to you" C-594's eye was twitching now. Man was he ever high strung.

 

"C-594 is a top-ranked medic class veteran of the Galactic Rebellion, has a medical degree and worked as a trauma surgeon on Earth for several years before--"

 

"That's quite ee-enough JERTY" C-594 cut off abruptly.

 

"Okay... so maybe the question that should be getting asked here is why a guy as over qualified is as you is doing a cleaners job?" Ricardo asked with a smile. When he saw a clear opening like that, as any Rick would do, he liked to dig in deep.

 

"There will be time for discussions of qualifications later, boys." The Ai said, "Right now, you are both late for your first assignment for the day."

 

"Grreeat. What's the specs?" C-594 asked as he pulled a portal gun from his belt and started fiddling with coordinates.

 

"Dimension C-725. Code yellow. BGS with ADBCI. Run protocol 419 with a partial wipe. Replacement shift coming in three hours." JERTY recited.

 

"Uh- what?" Ricardo felt awkwardly out of the loop about what any of that had just meant.

"Is that too much for you to handle?" C-594 quirked his eyebrow with smirk as he fired the portal gun, "Could just resign now and save me having to write in a form to the High Council requesting your replacement."

 

"Pfft-- how hard could this gig possibly be?" Ricardo laughed as he followed the other Rick through the green dimensional tear.

 

As he stepped into the dim lit room, the sudden hard stench of blood punched Ricardo in the stomach. To his credit he had managed to swallow back the bile until his eyes had adjusted to the light and he recognized the mangled face of the corpse. He turned and vomited directly onto C-594's boots.

 

“Fucking hell you’re disgusting!” C-594 yelped as he jumped back from the puddle of vomit and shook off his boots. His voice was muffled slightly through the florescent green glass of his breathing mask. Taking in another shaky breath of the stench of death, Ricardo regretted having left his provided mask back at his apartment.

 

“I’m disgusting? _Carajos_ , that- that is disgusting!” Ricardo said pointing to the corpse next to him without looking back at it. The head lolled over to the right and was split in two from the impact of an explosion, but there was no mistaking even with the early stages of decay setting in that the body was that of Rick Sanchez.

 

“Wh-What did you think a BGS with ADBCI was going to entail? It’s ad-admittedly messy enough that it really should be a code orange not yellow, but it’s hardly anything outside of standard manual book procedure.” C-594 paused for a moment to scrutinize Ricardo with a sharp glare, “You did read the manual book didn’t you?”

 

“Uh... no, why the hell would I do that?” Ricardo asked through gritted teeth as he tried to bite back the need to continue emptying his stomach until all he could do was dry heave. That smell was unbearable.

 

“Have a look around and see if there’s anything you can use as a-a breathing mask before you puke again. Be quick about it if you’re going to build something on the spot though, we only have a few hours to clean this all up.” With nothing more than a cold shrug, C-594 began unpacking a small toolkit he’d had strapped to his back. The main casing unfolded at the push of a button into a gurney with a large side tray full of surgical equipment.

 

“So uh, since I missed the manual. Min-mind explaining what the hell a BGS with whatever the fuck else you said is?” Ricardo asked as he cautiously edged his way around the corpse and started poking around the deceased Rick’s nearby home lab work bench for something to help him breath. It was a limited supply of possibilities but he started collecting a few spare parts and a screwdriver and set to quick work.

 

“BGS. Blood, guts, and for a lack of better word shit. With ADBCI, accidental death by combustible invention.” The words were recited dully as C-594 took a few photos of the body.

“So when they call this Janitorial work, is it always this uh-” Ricardo paused in his tinkering to motion at the blood splatter that decorated the apartment, “This um, existential?”

 

“You rrreally haven’t the slightest clue what this- what the job even is, do you? N-No-- wait don’t answer that. I don’t care.” C-594 said setting to work on rolling out the body bag. “I, or for-for today at least I suppose it’s we, are tasked with the imperative procedure of in- in the case of the accidental or intentional death of a Rick, re-retrieving any classified technology from the deceased. In some cases, such as this one, a replacement Rick has been scheduled to t-take place of the deceased in this dimension, assuming their role, so it’s also expected of me-- that we also retrieve the body and prepare the premises for the new assigned Rick’s arrival.”

 

“So, we clll-clean up after dead versions of our-ourselves. Interdimensional Janitors. Huh.” He supposed it was a logical concept that someone needed to make sure that when Ricks died that certain things left behind didn’t fall into the wrong hands. As for the replacement and assuming of another Rick’s identity, well, he wasn’t much for sentimentality for his own home dimension and could see some benefit to a fresh start if you wound up needing one.

 

“Y-you done over there yet? Could use your help with lifting th-this guy.” C-594 called out. Even with his mask on, he cringed as he got in closer to move the corpse.

 

“Just about got iiiit” Ricardo said as he adjusted one last screw before proudly pulling his makeshift breathing mask over his face and taking a deep satisfied breath of not exactly the freshest air, but it was at least an improvement.

 

“Right. Bravo Macgyver. Now get over here aaaand- w-wait- why don’t you have any protective gloves?”

 

"I didn't think I needed them, ob-obviously." Ricardo said dryly as he looked down at the dead Rick again. The sight still made his gut turn but at least without the initial shock and that awful smell he managed to keep it down. "Look. He's just me right? So it's not l--like it matters if I touch-"

 

"Don't- don't touch the body!" C-594 snapped, "Ther-there should be some medical gloves in the lower compartment under the gurney. Ge-get those first."

 

The spare gloves were a pair of the thin blue latex surgical kind and Ricardo pulled them on with a satisfied snap that made his coworker glare at him. Shrugging off the disapproving look, he walked back around the gurney, and after a brief moment of cringing, grabbed the deceased Rick by the ankles. They hoisted the body into the bag, then onto the gurney. Once the body was cleared, it didn’t take very long to clean the rest of the room with the aid of the equipment C-594 had brought along. There was a sort of vacuum cleaner designed around cannibalized Florpnorpian tech that took out most the fresher blood stains. With that taken care of, Ricardo was studiously instructed on how to repair the remaining damage from the explosion before being left to deal with that task while C-594 did and area sweep of the lab equipment.

 

“I thought y-you said another Rick was taking over here. W-why would we need to take an-anything back to storage if he’s gonna be here to make sure no one else takes it?” Ricardo asked casually as he filled in the small burn hole left in the floor.

 

“Sometimes, there’s inventions that are better l-left un-toyed with by other Ricks than the ones who created them.” C-594 said with the same solemn frown he seemed to always have as he bagged a small metal box that had been on the work table. It was starting to become a growing suspicion of Ricardo’s that this other Rick didn’t even know how to smile.

 

By the time the third Rick arrived on scene, ready to assume the dead Rick’s place, the lab room had been returned to an immaculate clutter of disorganized scientific experiments. One would never tell at a glance that anything out of the ordinary had ever occurred.

 

“Welp, enjoy the new place!” Ricardo said tossing aside his makeshift breathing mask as C-594 rolled the gurney back through a portal returning to the biowaste facility.

 

“Yeah yeah, get out of here already. Stinking hired help.” The replacement Rick barked.

 

They both gave a middle finger salute as Ricardo stepped through the portal after his coworker.

“Despite the late start, I’d say that went alright.” JERTY greeted as they returned. “C-594, why don’t you show C-382 where to take the byproducts for proper storage and disposal? Then you have another assignment in dimension C-291.”

 

“You mean there’s.. more dead Ricks?” Ricardo asked trying to cover his mild horror with a mix of a cough and a laugh.

 

“Infinite realities means infinite possibilities in which Rick Sanchez dies.” JERTY replied. “If you are feeling a sense of existential dread coming on, there is a room with a nifty self help video on meditation that is available to you for an allotted ten minute break session per day.”

 

“You ever had an existential crisis JERTY?” C-594 asked, his eyes were fixed to the black body bag as he led the way down the twisting halls of the facility while pushing the gurney.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You think a ten minute meditation break would solve that?”

 

The Ai did not respond.

 

“Didn’t think so.” C-594 said with what Ricardo almost thought looked like a thin twitch of an upturn to his lips before it settled back into the same flat expressionless tone. “This is where we dispose of all bodies. Simple enough. Pu- push the button here to open the hatch and shove them into the incinerator.”

 

As he said the instructions, C-594 did exactly that, tilting the gurney up so the body bag slid into the fire filled hatch. There was a sizzling crackle of flames consuming the corpse before the doors of the hatch snapped shut again.

 

“Then we take all the blood collected over here” Unhooking the modified alien vacuum’s glass tank full of the collected bodily fluid, C-594 pulled open another smaller chute door in the wall.

“Where’s that lead?” Ricardo asked as the container of blood was dropped down into the chute never to be seen again.

 

“Hell if I know. JERTY, care to tell us w-what you’re doing with all that Rick blood?” When again no reply came, C-594 simple stared off into the distance for a moment with a dark frown before shrugging it off. “Finally all classified tech is sent off to the vault for sorting and permanent storage.”

 

The bagged metal box taken from the deceased’s workbench was placed neatly on a small teleportation pad and with the press of a button vanished in the flash green light.

 

“Any more questions?” This was asked with a ton that implied any questions Ricardo could have would clearly be regarded as stupid ones.

 

“Uh... on an aa-average how many times do we do this per day?” Ricardo asked, deciding it was better to know than fear being judged for not knowing by a stuck up alternate dimensional counterpart.

 

“Of assignments similar to this one? Alone, I average about five to ten bodies a day, gge-give or take. A complete clean sweep code red can be a full day’s work though.” C-594 sighed heavily, “With two Ricks, I had hoped to double those numbers.”

 

“Hey, things were ff-fiiine. I mean, it- it could have gone worse.” Ricardo said as they both looked down at the dried puke encrusted on C-594’s boots.

 

“I’m let-letting you know now, if we have even one more situation like that, I’m filing a replacement request to the administration.”

 

“Tra-trust- trust me, I-I don’t plan to stick around long either. I’ll be out of your unkempt blue hair in no time.” Shared sentiments of their displeasure with the current employment situation out in the open, both headed back to the main locker room. There was a spare designated breathing filter and fresh uniform waiting in Ricardo’s locker. He ignored the fresh pressed and bleached uniform, and just grabbed the mask. “Hey, when you first joined- did-did they- did they send you all this crap... and a tooth brush?”  

 

“What the hell are you ta-talking about?” C-594 asked with a look of utter disdain rather than the laughter that Ricardo had been hoping to provoke.

 

“Nevermind. J-juuust thought someone else around this citadel maybe had a sense of humor. M-Must have been a mistake.” Ricardo groaned.

 

“I hardly see what is amusing about the insinuation that dental hygiene has any connotation to your job performance, C-382.” JERTY’s voice came over the loud speaker. So the cheeky robot did pay attention to their conversations after all. “Dimension C-291 requires a full technology sweep. The class 3 SID has an optic upgrade that will need to be extracted, but otherwise no need for a full body disposal.”

 

“Right or left eye?” C-594 asked as he fired up his portal gun.

 

The rest of the work day continued on relatively repetitively. By the end of it they had disposed of seven corpses, and collected classifieds from eleven dimensions in total, and Ricardo had managed to only puke all of three times. There was definitely a complaint being filed for a replacement tonight.

 

“Good work today boys.” JERTY said with a small congratulatory sound clip of kazoos. “I’m sure you’ll be doubling your numbers in no time.”

 

“Yeah right,” Both Ricks scoffed in unison, and then paused to glare at each other for daring to share the same thought.

 

“I’ll be heading back home tonight, JERTY, so if there’s any emergency calls, use the interdimensional pager.” C-594 said as he removed his dirty elbow length rubber gloves and blood stained lab coat to deposit them in a laundry basket in the locker room. He then fished in his pants pocket for a moment before putting a gold wedding band back on.

 

With an internal moan Ricardo suddenly understood why his coworker was such a stick in the mud. He was married. The moment he’d been told he was going to be a father, Ricardo had been fast to find the first ticket outta town he could get. No ball and chain was going to ever make him settle down and raise a kid. He imagined C-594 had the whole 9 yards suburban hell package and a white picket fence too boot.

 

“Do send my best regards to the Mrs and little Miss Beth, Richard.” JERTY said formally.

 

“Woaaaah- woah- WAIT- hold up!” He had to do a double take at that, “Rri-Richard?”

 

“Yes.” C-594 still had that ever persistent frown on his face.

 

“ _Joder!_ What kind of wh-white boy name is that?” Ricardo laughed hysterically. A stick in the mud suburban married no sense of humor Rick named Richard. This couldn’t get any more rickdiculous.

 

“And what? Does being called Enrique or some shit somehow make you a-a Ricker Rick than me?” Richard asked, his hand balling into a fist.

 

“It-it’s Ricardo. For starters.” It was hard to talk between his fits of laughter. “And don’t worry about being the Rickest Rick there is Dick. Clearly you’re miles behind in that race, but someone’s gotta come in la-last place, right?”

 

For a moment Ricardo thought he was about to get a right hook to the face, and braced for dodging, but instead Richard just exhaled heavily, turned on his heels and portalled out of the room.

 

“Will you also be returning to your home dimension for the evening?” JERTY wisely decided not to comment on that last exchange.

 

“Nah. No-nno strings attached here. I just got a-- got a’date with a bottle of whiskey and my existentialism in my new bachelor suite.”

 

“Very well then. Good night, Ricardo.”  JERTY dismissed as he left the building with a middle finger salute.

 

Every day Richard was filing a new complaint to the council for a replacement. Every day Ricardo was drunk phoning the Career Placement Center to angrily rant with his friend whiskey about the existential shit job he refused to do another day longer.  It wasn’t till the revelation that his bachelor suite had a mortgage to pay, and then the following week’s very hefty paycheque, that Ricardo realized perhaps he was a little more obligated to this whole Citadel lifestyle and keeping this job than he’d initially intended on.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the acronym terminology from this fic:
> 
> IDJ = Interdimensional Janitors
> 
> BGS = Blood, Guts, and for a lack of better word Shit. 
> 
> ADBCI = Accidental Death by Combustible Invention (a leading cause of deaths amoung Ricks)
> 
> Class 3 SID = Self Induced Death
> 
> And last but certainly not least,
> 
> JERTY 3000 =
> 
> "That's "Janitorial Evaluator Robot" to you, Rick Sanchez."
> 
> "JERTY it is then!"
> 
> "The 'to you' was not a part of my title-"
> 
> "Too late aaa-all-- already wrote it into your source c-code."
> 
> (Bonus points if you recognize what JERTY's name is a parody/reference of)
> 
> Special thanks to Beta-19 for giving this fic a shiny polish pass for me :P


End file.
